


The Phoenix

by MirrorMystic



Series: Among Eagles [18]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Multi, Urban Fantasy, space fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: The end is coming.The invasion of Providence is coming to an end, one way or the other. The heroes of humanity, battered and bloody, stand against the enemy of all life. And they do not stand alone.One life ends. Another begins.And she who saves one life, saves the world…
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Among Eagles [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/987408
Kudos: 4





	The Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever thought of a fic, had a beginning and end all planned out, but didn’t know how to tackle that pesky middle part? Well, that’s been me and Providence Lost, for the better part of a year, and that was even before the pandemic came around and threw us all for a loop. 
> 
> It’s gotten to the point where writing my OCs, stressed out and struggling and separated from their loved ones, was just hitting too close to home. So, if you’ll forgive me a little bit of abridging and a little bit of broad strokes, allow me to present the end of this arc on Providence, a cleansing to the peril the crew of the Sparrow have been through, and a new beginning-- for all of us. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the read. ^^
> 
> Follow me on Twitter at @mystic_writes !

~*~   
  
_ Darkness. Shapes and shadows. Streaks of color like the iridescent gleam of sunlight through stained glass.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Time and memory, trickling like a stream.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Everyone out!” Pathfinder Imani calls. She leads the way forward, cutting down any hapless ghoul that stands in her way with a flash of her sickle, shining phantom-white. Her other hand ushers the child priestess Nyx in her wake. Nyx, daughter of Despair. The one who began this catastrophe, and who may very well be the one to end it.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A member of the Order’s Watchtower Council, one of the eight most powerful people in the galaxy, hand in hand with a daughter of daemons. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ An unlikely alliance follows in their wake. Mercenaries shoulder to shoulder with heroes of the Order. An impromptu coalition, racing down the flagship’s winding halls.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The dreadnought Leviathan. Flagship of the Malefic fleet, a labyrinthine amalgam of meat and machine. Home to a swarm of Harvesters, semi-sentient daemon ships that picked worlds clean in Malice’s wake, that collected the dead for conversion into the damned ranks of Decay.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Below them, Providence Academy’s Cygnus campus shines like a jewel in the night, shrouded in a multilayered arcane shield. Above, the foul green light of the Breach, shining like a false moon.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Leviathan’s vast shadow slips between them, looming over the Cygnus campus and its bastion of defenders. The hand of Malice, ready to snuff out the last light on earth.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A light, pure and blinding, joins the other two. A star of hope blazes into existence in the skies over Providence, as Leviathan thunders its agony and outrage over the bomb planted in its heart. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The blast yanks the deck out from under them and hurls them off their feet. Kit is the first to recover, tucking into a roll and hopping back up. She flashes a smile over her shoulder. Down the hall, Lily grins back.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ In this murky, shadowed memory, Kit and Lily shine like stars.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Aabha turns, searching. In the corner of her eyes, she spots Lila helping a disheveled Vincent to his feet. Despite falling on his face, Vincent’s grinning like a fool.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I hope I gave that charge enough juice,” he beams.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A shudder runs through the deck, and they’re running again, alarms blaring, ghouls snapping at their heels.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A figure appears in their path, manifesting out of sand. Kit reflexively slices through it without breaking stride; the blade passes through him like smoke.  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_This changes nothing_ ** _ , the apparition speaks, a haunted whisper echoed by a howling sandstorm. He watches the group as they flee, with dark, empty eyes, the edges of his eye sockets crumbling into black sand.  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Our forces are without limit. You can kill us, but we shall return. We shall return, again and again, until this world is nothing but ashes and dust. Until the last battlefield lies empty, and sand swallows all._ ** _   
_ _   
_ _ Leviathan roars, in pain and fury. A catastrophic arcane chain reaction rips through its innards. Rivers of fire consume the inner decks, lighting the colossal ship from within as if it had magma in its veins. Lights strobe across its surface-- secondary explosions, set off by the detonation in its core, blasting open its outer hull in geysers of flame.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There’s a tortured shriek of metal. Time flickers, skips. Or maybe that’s just how it actually is. No big moment. No stirring speeches or tearful goodbyes. Sudden, without warning. Another soldier gone.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A Valkyrie, crushed in her armor under a collapsing ceiling. Taven and another half dozen Sisters, cut off, just barely visible through a crack in the rubble.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Aabha looses her chakrams. They spin like sawblades, scything into the mound. They return to her hands a moment later, leaving glowing gouges in the debris. Another round of explosions go off in the distance, dousing them in silt and cracked plaster. Too slow. Too slow.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Stand back!” Mirai cries, charging a lance beam. “I’ll blast you out!” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ A shout up the hall. The Sisters stand together, shields locked, spears braced. Taven meets Mirai’s gaze through the gap in the rubble.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “He’s here,” Taven whispers. He swallows hard. “...Mirai. Get them out.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You can’t give me orders,” Mirai hisses back.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Then do this for me,” Taven urges, “as a friend.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Frantic lance blasts. Clashing metal.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There’s just enough space in the debris that Taven can just about fit his hand through. Mirai takes it with a squeeze and a shuddering gasp. Taven meets her eyes behind the wall.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “What are we?” he calls.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “We are the Valkyries,” Mirai recites, her voice trembling. “The Valkyries choose the living and the dead.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Mirai turns and marches away, her head held high. But Aabha lingers a moment longer, eyes fixed on the hall beyond.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The Hollows have been unleashed. They crash against the Sisters’ shield wall, daemon-machines in bronze armor imprinted with the fighting abilities of fallen heroes. They shriek and snarl in their metallic language, arm blades flashing, sparking as they clash. They are the Dreadguard, the personal enforcers of the Dark Apostle. And in their wake… _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There he was. Raven wings and a black-bladed spear; a vagabond in ragged robes, looking more like a lone murderer than the head of a corrupt church.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Jei, the Dark Apostle. Aspect of Dogma.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Taven raises his staff, a shield of golden light materializing in his hands. He turns, his eyes fixed on Aabha’s own. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “ _ **_Remember us_ ** _.” _   
  
~*~   
  
Taven’s voice cut through the smoke of time and memory-- as well as the very real smoke wreathing Aabha’s form. Aabha woke, armor singed and smouldering, choking and coughing on the wind whistling past. She opened her eyes--   
  
\--and saw the plains of Providence racing up to meet her.    
  
Aabha gasped. She swiveled around, opening her arms to slow her fall, even a little. She reached for the runic metal halo on the back of her armor, the one Taven had enchanted to give her armor wings. The halo flickered at her touch, sparked, but didn’t catch.    
  
There was a bloom of green light. A bizarre sensation flooded Aabha’s limbs-- she slipped and slid sideways, as if being squeezed through some sort of tunnel-- and abruptly emerged on a cliff overlooking the sea a mile away.    
  
It was a surreal, jarring experience, to find herself teleported onto solid ground with her momentum gone. Better than plummeting to earth like a meteor and being smashed to a pulp, at least. But the impact was still enough to slam the wind from Aabha’s lungs. She lay there for a long moment, stunned and wheezing, wreathed in wisps of toxic green flame.    
  
Beside her, Nyx stood, gazing off into the distance. She was watching the remains of Leviathan, shattered and burning, come crashing down to earth like artillery shells. Her cloak billowed with each impact, each blast throwing up geysers of soil and smoke. That could have been them, just a few moments ago, dashed to pieces across the fields of Providence, crushed and buried under the corpse of a battleship.    
  
Nyx grit her teeth. Her grip tightened on the crystal in her fist.    
  
If only she’d been able to teleport them out sooner. If only she’d been able to get everyone out. If only she’d known exactly what she was summoning when she turned on her master and sacrificed him to the Breach. If only, in her loneliness and grief, she’d never followed the sorcerer Maxwell away from home at all.    
  
If only, if only, if only.    
  
“I didn’t want this,” Nyx whispered. Aabha looked at her, but said nothing.    
  
In the distance, they could see the shining dome protecting the Cygnus campus. The city was under siege by the combined forces of Dogma and Decay. With the Leviathan destroyed and their masters cut off, the armies of ghouls would have lost their direction, their intent. Soldiers reduced to mindless drones, driven only by hunger rather than any higher goal.    
  
Nyx could hear them. Their silent, withered voices, their vacant stares. This army of undead was so unlike the spirits she presided over in her temple back home. They were… empty. Hollow. Puppets and shadows. Compared to them, the bright souls of the Order and their allies, rising up in resistance, were all-but blinding to look upon.    
  
Any one of them would look at this and see it as a victory. But the price…   
  
The price was too high.    
  
She felt her before she saw her-- the angel in armor that was once pure white, now scorched and stained, alight with anger and grief. She glowered at her across the plateau, torn cape billowing in the seaborne breeze.    
  
_ “ _ **_You_ ** _ ,” _ Mirai snarled.    
  
Speaking aloud didn’t come naturally to Nyx. She was a medium; a shepherd of souls, voices without mouths. But an awful, wordless feeling welled up within her. She lifted her head, and tried her best.    
  
“I…” Nyx began. “...I’m sorry--”   
  
Mirai punched her in the face.    
  
Nyx hit the ground with a gasp. She reached up, stunned, to the bloody welt Mirai’s gauntlet left across her cheek. She yelped as Mirai grabbed a fistful of her collar and yanked her to her feet--   
  
Aabha shoved Nyx behind her. Mirai’s fist smacked into her palm.    
  
“Mirai!” Aabha cried, staring her down. “Mirai, stop! She’s just a child!”   
  
“A child? She’s a  _ menace! _ ” Mirai seethed, wrenching her fist out of Aabha’s grip.    
  
She stabbed a finger towards the horizon, to the burning ruin of Leviathan and Cygnus under siege, a scenario mirrored across the planet who knew how many times over.    
  
“ _ Look at this! _ ” Mirai railed. “She did this! She opened the Breach! She’s responsible for all of this! We’ve lost so much…! She didn’t lose a damn thing!”   
  
“Yes, she has,” Aabha pleaded. “She lost her home. Her family. She’s just being used--”   
  
“Sympathy?! For a daemon?!” Mirai roared. “This isn’t a victim!  _ This is the enemy!  _ **_And she’s here, on her knees…!_ ** _ ” _   
  
Mirai hurled Aabha aside. Her sword flashed in her hands--   
  
The silver blade stopped dead with a ringing clash. Kit grit her teeth, crossed her swords and shoved Mirai’s blade aside.    
  
Kit turned, met Aabha’s gaze with a nod. Aabha sidled up beside her, her chakrams in hand.    
  
Mirai stared at them, incredulous.    
  
“Y-You…” Mirai shook her head, seething. “...Get out of my way. Both of you.”   
  
“No!” Aabha cried, adamant.    
  
“Demons defending daemons,” Mirai spat. “I should have known! How dare you wield his sword! How dare you wear his wings…!”   
  
“You need to get a grip, sister!” Kit fired back.    
  
“Stop defending that thing!” Mirai snapped. “She can’t die enough for what she’s done!”   
  
“We need her!” Aabha cried. “Yes, she opened the Breach, but she’s our only chance to close it again! I won’t let you touch her!”   
  
“Get out of my way…!”    
  
Mirai charged, screaming out her fury. Aabha and Kit met her head-on, blades flashing in their hands. Gleaming silver clashed against glowing red and burning saffron. Sparks flew, the air singing with the strokes of energized blades.    
  
Further down the plateau, Lily was dragging herself onto her hands and knees, roused from unconsciousness by the sounds of battle. She found Vincent and Lila nearby, curled up on the ground. Vincent had shielded Lila from the explosion as the Leviathan came apart. They’d fallen together, in each other’s arms. Now, he was unconscious, and Lila wasn’t much better.    
  
Lily pressed two fingers to Vincent’s throat, checking for a pulse. She did the same to Lila, sighing in relief at the flicker under her fingers. Lily leaned down, pressing her forehead against hers. Lila stirred at her touch.    
  
“Lily…?” Lila murmured weakly.    
  
“Shh,” Lily urged.    
  
She reached down and gave Lila’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Then she lifted her head towards the sounds of clashing blades, and closed her fingers around the pistol she pulled from Lila’s sleeve.    
  
Mirai fought with the ferocity of someone with nothing left to lose. Even flanked, outnumbered four weapons to one, she screamed and struck, her blade leaving silver streaks in the air and flashing when it made contact. She roared until her throat was ragged, smashing Aabha and Kit back with her inhuman strength. Aabha and Kit gave it the best they had-- but Mirai was a Valkyrie. The Order Elite. And she would not be deterred.    
  
That’s when Kit saw it-- writhing under the flesh of Mirai’s cheek. A flickering, sinuous sigil. A sign that Mirai truly was fighting like a woman possessed…   
  
“Aabha!” Kit hissed.    
  
Aabha gasped.    
  
“Dogma,” she breathed.   
  
Aabha wheezed as Mirai drove her sword hilt into Aabha’s stomach, before smashing her over the head and knocking her flat. Kit cried out in outrage and charged. Mirai sent both of Kit’s swords flying with one mighty two-handed swing, and hurled her away with a kick.   
  
Mirai turned, locking eyes with Nyx on the ground. She summoned her wings, bellowed out her fury and plunged into a dive, her sword flashing like lightning.    
  
Nyx stared, terror in her veins. She watched her judgment descending, the vengeful angel crashing down. She scrambled for something. Anything.    
  
The Rift Needle shone in her hand.    
  
A beam of foul green light shot from the crystal in Nyx’s grip and stopped Mirai in mid-air. She cried out, frozen, the edges of her form flickering and fraying. She shuddered and convulsed, watching in horror as a mirror image of herself began peeling away from her body, distorted like heat haze…   
  
“No, don’t!” Aabha cried, rushing forward without thinking.    
  
Nyx panicked. She thrust the Rift Needle towards her and stopped Aabha in her tracks, shrouded in toxic green fire, then binding Kit with another beam when she tried the same.    
  
Lily raised her derringer, cocking the hammer with a click. Nyx hadn’t seen her yet. If she could just--   
  
Nyx met her eyes, and something in Lily’s chest cracked like an egg. There was something about Nyx’ eyes. So… lost and alone. Looking in her eyes, Lily thought, she looked so much… like…   
  
Lily exhaled.    
  
She took the shot.    
  
The Rift Needle shattered in Nyx’ hands.    
  
Volatile arcane power exploded across the clifftop and threw everyone off their feet. Ribbons of acid-green fire spiraled around them and streaked through the skies like aurorae. Bolts of emerald lightning speared through the clouds. The Breach shivered in the sky, shifting, changing…   
  
Mirai got to her hands and knees, her ears ringing. The mark of Malice on her cheek flickered and faded, dripping from her skin like a bad tattoo. She watched the inky-black mark drip into her palm, sizzle, and vanish into smoke. A fog lifted from her mind.    
  
“Wh-What… What did I…” Mirai shook her head.    
  
A hand appeared above her. She looked up, and let Kit hoist her to her feet.    
  
“Hey,” Kit said, wary. “Are we good now?”   
  
Mirai clutched her head. She glanced up the hill, and beyond, to the Breach glowing and writhing in the sky.    
  
“ _ Are _ we?” Mirai wondered.    
  
Nyx stared up at the Breach and the growing distortion field, her eyes wide. The broken, crumbling shards of the Rift Needle lay at her feet. Beyond the Breach, she could hear them, clamoring: ancient things, chaos things, banging at the bars and demanding to come through. The forces of Malice. Without limit. Without mercy.    
  
“I didn’t want this,” Nyx said, eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t want any of this at all.”   
  
“Do you really mean that?”    
  
Nyx looked up. Aabha approached her, hands up, wary. Nyx felt a twitch in her hands; she flexed her fingers, and bit down her fear. Nyx stared at the ground, and swallowed hard.    
  
“...Yes,” Nyx said.    
  
Aabha got down on one knee, to better meet Nyx’s gaze. She tipped up the girl’s chin. Warm amber met frightened, lonely gold.    
  
“Then let’s fix it,” Aabha said.   
  
Hot shame welled up in Nyx’ face. She shook her head, blinking back tears. “I… I can’t. I’m not… strong enough.”   
  
“You won’t be alone,” Aabha said.    
  
Nyx gasped. The words stuck, like a burr in her skull.    
  
Aabha reached out. Nyx took her hand. She was so, so warm.   
  
There was a pulse across Aabha’s armor. The runic halo on her back flickered back to life. Heeding her unspoken, her magic flowed through her armor, channeled and shaped into wings of brilliant flame. She met Nyx’ eyes with a nod. She took the girl in her arms, and took off.    
  
The Breach loomed above them. It flashed and surged, buffeting them with hurricane winds, lashing out with tongues of green lightning. Still, they rose, Nyx’ wordless voice ringing in Aabha’s ears as she raised her towards the false moon.    
  
As they rose, higher and higher, the Breach growing closer and closer, the arcane storm grew ever stronger. It assaulted them with everything it had, all the desperation of a beast driven into a corner, swatting at them with lightning, blasting them with stinging wind.    
  
Aabha hugged Nyx to her chest, Nyx mouthing an incantation, rings of white magic sigils spinning around her wrists. The wind, thick with chaotic power, sliced at them from every angle, flaying Aabha’s armor from her body, slicing at her skin. But there was a fire in Aabha that would not go out, one that burned brighter than any mortal. Each wound sealed in a blaze of golden flame, until she was fully and brilliantly alight.    
  
Across the sky, Jei, the Dark Apostle, manifested in a plume of black smoke. He gazed across the battlefield below, saw his glorious conquest stolen from under his nose, saw the joy of bloodshed being stopped in its tracks. He raised his black-bladed spear, spread his raven wings, and raced across the sky like a comet streaking towards the Breach.    
  
Aabha shielded Nyx with her body as the girl continued the ritual, arms outstretched, eyes shining, galaxies glittering in the darkness of her hood. Every inch of her was engulfed in golden fire. The tempest should have torn them to ribbons and scoured the flesh from their bones. But the light of life shone in Aabha’s heart, brighter than any star.    
  
For a moment, just a moment, Aabha swore there was a third person there with them. A ghost, coalescing out of clouds, his edges fraying and flickering, pulled away into the Breach.    
  
_ Find your family, child, _ Harkov said, like a prayer,  _ and you will never be alone. _ _   
_ _   
_ He smiled, and disappeared, whipped away into the vortex above.    
  
The Breach pulsed and flashed, storm clouds gathering within a nimbus of toxic green light. Jei raced across the sky, his hateful gaze set on Nyx, eager to plunge his spear into the traitor child who cost him his victory.    
  
The sky went ablaze with light. Not a foul, acid-green, but a magnificent, gleaming gold.    
  
Light, pure and blinding, exploded in the skies over Providence, hurling the Breach’s thunderheads across the horizon. Jei, flying headfirst into the explosion, had less than a moment to balk at his doom before the fireball swallowed him up. The blast annihilated him, obliterating him into ash and dust, leaving nothing behind-- save for his black-bladed spear, weeping smoke as it fell out of the sky to the plains below.    
  
As the blast faded, magic sigils lingered in the air, like the shadows flash-seared onto one’s eyes after gazing at a bright light. They traced the shining scar over the patch of air where the Breach once was, shimmered, and were gone.    
  
With the Breach sealed and its foul green light extinguished, the sun-- the real sun-- rose above the horizon, painting the sky pink, red, and gold.    
  
~*~   
  
Kit stared at herself in the floor-length mirror. She fidgeted, tugging at her collar, her cuffs. She still wasn’t used to getting dressed up like this. She probably never would be.    
  
Kit took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh.    
  
“Do I look okay?” she asked.    
  
Arms snaked around her waist. A chin plopped down on top of her head.    
  
“Yeah,” Aabha smiled. “You look lovely.”   
  
“Still don’t have an ass, though,” Lily chimed in.    
  
“Shut up,” Kit grinned, swatting at her. She adjusted her lapels, glancing towards the corner. “Hey. Thanks for the loaner, by the way. All my other clothes were on the Sparrow, not that I had anything this fancy. I just wish it didn’t look like I was going to a funeral.”   
  
Mirai rolled her eyes with a grudging fondness. “...Just be grateful one of us had something in your size.”   
  
“Hell yeah! Short queens unite!” Kit crowed.    
  
“Come on,” Aabha laughed, adjusting her sari over her shoulder and ushering her girls out the door. “Let’s not keep them waiting…”   
  
They had gathered in an auditorium on the Cygnus campus. It was a practical location; far enough from the frontlines to be safe, but close enough to quickly return to the fray. It was a relatively modest affair, if anything with almost half of the Order’s Watchtower Council could be considered modest.    
  
“Tonight, we honor those who gave their blood to defend this world,” Archmagus Kalani intoned. “We are the Order. With these hands, we make the future. But this Academy holds  _ our _ future, as well.”   
  
Aabha stood center stage, pretty as a picture, her hands clasped primly behind her back.    
  
“Aabha Puri,” Kalani declared, “Though you are young, only recently promoted from Junior Agent, you have accomplished something extraordinary. While there remain many battles to be fought in the weeks or even months to come, know that your actions have already won the war. For your bravery, and for exceptional service, it is my honor to present you with the Eagle of Elysium. May you wear it well.”   
  
High Inquisitor Victoria Thorn, in full regalia, presented Aabha’s medal. Aabha bowed her head and accepted it graciously.    
  
“I suppose I might have been wrong about you, Junior Puri,” Thorn said thinly.    
  
“Thank you for this honor, Inquisitor Thorn,” Aabha said with a perfect smile.    
  
Thorn sniffed, and walked away.    
  
Aabha scanned the crowd. Her shiny new Eagle of Elysium sat over her heart, beside her badge, the crescent, orb, and diamonds of the Order. But she didn’t need a lump of cold metal. What really warmed her heart were her friends in the crowd: Kit and Lily, front and center. Lila and Vincent. The captain, Yuna, and Ambrosia. Jaki and Shanti. Serafine Crespo. Crane. Morgan and Syl, so proud they looked like they were about to cry.    
  
There were other familiar faces in the crowd. Commander Vega. Kresnik and his gang. Exalted Elise, Raney’s arm curled around her waist.    
  
There she was, in the corner. Little Nyx, bracketed by Pathfinder Imani on one side, Director Soren Kamuro on the other, as well as half a dozen sinister suits from Order Intelligence.    
  
Aabha took a deep breath, and let it out slow.    
  
~*~   
  
“Good on you, girl!” Kresnik bellowed, clapping Aabha on the back so forcefully he almost knocked her over. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer gal!”   
  
“Th-Thanks, Kresnik,” Aabha mumbled, wondering how much he’d already had to drink. Ophelia tugged on his sleeve and ushered him away. Raney and Elise followed suit, the two of them acknowledging Aabha with a nod.    
  
Aabha nodded back. She was doing her rounds, walking the length of the campus banquet hall they’d set aside for her special day. With how festive everyone looked and felt, you’d hardly imagine that just a week ago, this planet was fighting for its life against a Malefic invasion. But the enemy commanders had disappeared after Aabha and Nyx sealed the Breach, leaving the vast majority of the invasion force reverted to base instincts. The war was more or less over. The rest was just cleanup. Cleanup, and formalities, such as Aabha saying hello to everyone she knew and quite a few people she didn’t.    
  
Aabha spotted Robyn, Yuna, and Ambrosia sitting in a corner. Robyn had her comm out, and was talking to the holographic form of her sister, Helen Weiss, cupped in her palm.    
  
Aabha had often wondered how, in the same family, one could be stuck as a relatively lowly starship captain while the other could be an Admiral of the Fleet and a sitting member of the Watchtower Council. She was sure at least part of the reason included Robyn manspreading on a couch at a formal gala, her boots kicked up on a table.    
  
“Nah, I get it, I get it,” Robyn was saying, waving to Aabha as she went past. “You’ve still got battles to fight up there, after all.”   
  
_ “Hmph,” _ Helen scoffed.  _ “If you could call them ‘battles’.” _   
  
“Still, it’s a shame you couldn’t make it planetside,” Robyn said. She draped an arm over the back of the couch. Yuna leaned into her, her fingers laced with a giggling Ambrosia beside her. “I wanted to thank you for letting me use the beach house, at least.”   
  
_ “After what your girl Aabha did for us, you can have whatever you want.” _   
  
“In that case, how about a rush order at the Alliance drydock?” Robyn grinned. “The guy said the Sparrow’s grounded for a month, but I bet a word from the Admiral could cut that down by a week or two…”   
  
_ “Robyn…” _   
  
“Fine, fine. How about dinner, then? You can catch up with my wife. And now, you can meet her new girlfriend.”   
  
_ “Her  _ **_what_ ** _?” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Little Aabha…”   
  
Aabha stopped just short of bumping into a figure in a long white robe. Jaki smiled a warm, grandfatherly smile, clapping his hands down on Aabha’s shoulders.    
  
“Oh, my girl. How you’ve grown. Not in your body, as you’re already quite tall, but in your soul. I’m proud of you.”   
  
“Thank you, Father,” Aabha said, dipping her head.    
  
Jaki’s smile turned bittersweet. “...I take it you’ve already heard the news?”   
  
“Yes,” Aabha nodded. “Is there anything I can do to make you stay?”   
  
Jaki sighed, clapping Aabha on the back.    
  
“You’ve done extraordinary work, child. Extraordinary work. But it’s not over yet. This land is still strewn with spirits that must be put to rest. Who knows how long such a task will take? Longer, I suspect, than when the Sparrow is fit to fly again. But it would not do for me to leave such a task unfinished. Shanti feels the same.”   
  
Jaki nodded. By the window, Aabha spotted Shanti, Lila, and Vincent, Vincent crying out in dismay.    
  
“What do you mean, ‘you’ll be back’?” Vincent said, signing as he spoke. “Who’s gonna take care of the engine room without you? I ain’t half the grease monkey you are, Chief!”   
  
_ No, you’re not, _ Shanti said bluntly. She jabbed a playful elbow into Lila’s side, flashing her a reassuring smirk.  _ But together… I think the two of you will do just fine. _   
  
“Thank you, Chief,” Lila smiled. “We’ll try not to burn the place down!”   
  
“Aww, don’t say that,” Vincent groaned. “It’s an engine room. There’s a very real chance we  _ might _ .”   
  
Lila giggled. She caught Aabha’s eyes over Vincent’s shoulder and waved. Aabha waved back.    
  
“Shanti has her own ghosts to lay to rest when it comes to Malefic invasions,” Jaki rumbled. “But do not fret, child. Work may keep us here on Providence longer than you might expect. But if you ever need our skills, all you need to do is call.”   
  
“I will,” Aabha beamed.   
  
Aabha continued down the hall. She waved to Serafine in passing.    
  
“Lila’s over there,” Aabha pointed, with a knowing smile. Serafine huffed, cheeks red, and kept on walking.    
  
“Agent Puri,” Cassie said, clapping Aabha on the shoulder.    
  
“Commander Vega,” Aabha said with a nod. And right on the commander’s heels, just who she wanted to see: Morgan, Syl… and Crane, her right arm tied up in a sling.    
  
“Crane,” Aabha gasped. “What happened?”   
  
“Would you believe it?” Crane scoffed. “I make it through an entire Malefic invasion with barely a scratch, and then on the day before your award ceremony I break my arm falling down some stairs.”   
  
“In fairness, you fell down some stairs  _ inside the wreckage of a starship _ ,” Syl said bluntly. “You’re lucky you only broke your arm.”   
  
“I’m a better shot with my left hand, anyway,” Crane shrugged. “If you need me, Aabha, either in the field or in the control room, I won’t let this cast get in the way.”   
  
“Thank you,” Aabha nodded. She glanced towards Morgan and Syl, shyly tugging her braid. “So, um… did Commander Vega say anything, or…?”   
  
“She did,” Syl smiled. “We’re returning to the Sparrow.”   
  
“Yes!” Aabha cried. She darted forward and pulled them both into a hug, before jolting back, remembering herself. “...Um! That’s… that’s great news, ma’am.”   
  
“Did you miss us that much?” Morgan chuckled.    
  
“Well… yes,” Aabha admitted, sheepish. “Crane and the captain have been a big help, but… honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready for my own command. I’ll be glad to have you two take over.”   
  
“‘Take over’?” Syl wondered.    
  
Morgan shook his head. “Aabha, we’re not taking command of Order asset Sparrow. Syl’s covering Crane as comms officer while her arm heals up. I’ll be filling in for Father Amaro as chief medical officer until he returns. But it’s still your team, Aabha. You’re agent-in-command.”   
  
Aabha blinked. “...Oh.”   
  
“Of course, we’ll be nearby if you need us,” Morgan smiled, “but you’ve been doing a fine job, Aabha. You’re a leader. More than a leader, you’re a hero. Look around you. These people needed a hero.”   
  
“No,” Aabha said, reverently, like a prayer. “People need other people.”   
  
Morgan beamed with pride. Aabha threw her arms around him, and this time, she didn’t pull away.    
  
“Hey, my turn, my turn!” Kit crowed as she came running in, jumping into Aabha’s arms. Lily came right on her heels, pouncing on them both. The three of them fell onto a couch, laughing together.    
  
“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan grinned, slipping back into the crowd.    
  
Aabha grinned, tangled in her girls. She pulled them each in for a kiss in turn.    
  
“Look at you, miss guest of honor,” Lily beamed.    
  
“Come on, Aabha. You done shaking hands yet? Ready to get out of here?” Kit grinned.    
  
“Almost, almost…” Aabha laughed.    
  
“Agent Puri.”   
  
Aabha stood up straight, dusting herself off. Kit and Lily scrambled up beside her.    
  
“Director,” Aabha nodded. Soren nodded back, somber, leaning on a sheathed sword as if it were a cane.    
  
“Hey!” Kit called, rather less formally. “Sup, man?”   
  
“...Ah, yes. ‘Sup’.” Soren blinked. He cleared his throat. “...Agent Puri, I wanted to congratulate you. You and your right-hand women. You’ve done extraordinary work.”   
  
“Thank you, sir,” Aabha said graciously.    
  
“Your deeds should be rewarded,” Soren said firmly. “Allow me to extend the Order’s gratitude on behalf of the Watchtower Council. I would like to offer you more than just a medal and a momentary spotlight. Please, don’t be shy. Whatever you desire, you shall have it, so long as it is in my power to give it.”   
  
“Oh! Oh!” Kit called. “Can I keep that set of Valkyrie armor! Oh, and that sweet fire sword!”   
  
Soren smiled, bemused. “...I think that’s rather up to the Valkyries.”   
  
“Uh, okay,” Kit tapped her chin, thoughtful. “Oooh! How about a cryo sword! Fire and ice, baby, just like my girlfriends!”   
  
“Done.”   
  
“Wait, cryo swords are actually a thing? Holy shit, technology’s  _ wild _ .”   
  
“And you, Miss Chase?” Soren asked.    
  
“Uhh… how about a paid vacation and some new clothes?”   
  
“Done,” Soren declared. “Agent Puri?”   
  
Aabha took a long moment to consider her answer. Kit, already giddy from a night skimming the buffet table and the promise of a new sword, babbled in Aabha’s ear.    
  
“C’mon, Aabha, he’s giving you a blank check,” Kit grinned, mildly manic. “He’s granting our wishes! He’s like a genie! Sorry, is that racist--”   
  
Lily thumped an elbow into Kit’s stomach. She studied Aabha’s eyes, concerned.    
  
“...Aabha?” she wondered.    
  
Aabha took a deep breath, and let it out slow.    
  
“...The girl,” she said carefully. “The little daemon girl. Nyx.”   
  
Soren raised a hand, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. “All we’ve done so far is ask her a few questions. No harm will come to her, now or in the future. You have my word.”   
  
“Thank you, sir, but…” Aabha met his eyes. “...still. I don’t want her to spend the rest of her life being observed behind one-way glass. I would like to formally request that Order Intelligence remand her to the custody of Order asset Sparrow. She’d be our responsibility. Crane and I will send you regular reports on her condition and her behavior. Er… if… if that’s alright with you.”   
  
Kit and Lily exchanged glances. Soren pursed his lips, thoughtful.    
  
“...I’ll see what I can do,” he said. And then he was gone.    
  
The girls watched him slip like a shadow back into the crowd. Lily whistled, long and low.    
  
“Wow,” Kit said quietly. She smirked. “...Together less than a year, and we’re already adopting.”   
  
“Oh, hush,” Aabha fondly rolled her eyes, and shoved Kit into a wall.    
  
~*~   
  
Sunset on Providence. Mirai stood on a rooftop, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Her armor gleamed in the fading light. Once, it was a brilliant, pure pearl white. Now it was scuffed and stained, parts of it scraped away to reveal the grey underneath.    
  
It wasn’t quite up to the standards of formalwear. But then again, Kit was wearing her other suit.   
  
She felt her before she saw her. Mirai stood stock still, hands clasped behind her back, gazing out at the horizon.    
  
“...Agent Puri,” she said quietly.    
  
“Sister Mirai,” Aabha murmured. “I couldn’t find you downstairs. Kit and Lily wanted to head out, but… I didn’t want to go without seeing how you were doing.”   
  
Mirai nodded. A long moment passed. Then:   
  
“...I received your request,” Aabha said gently. “Are you sure?”   
  
“Yes,” Mirai replied. “Order asset Talon has taken too many casualties to remain viable. It’s to be disbanded, its surviving members free to seek other assignments. But I was quite specific. I would like to join Order asset Sparrow. If you’ll have me.”   
  
“Only if you’re comfortable having  _ me _ in charge,” Aabha shrugged. “I mean, you’re a Valkyrie. The Order elite.”   
  
“I  _ was _ a Valkyrie,” Mirai said. “Not anymore. The Valkyries choose the living and the dead, and I… I’m not fit to make those choices. But you are. You spared that girl, and saved this planet. I would have killed her in a fit of grief and rage. I almost lost myself, then. I have a lot to learn from you and your strength, Agent Puri.”   
  
“But you were a Valkyrie,” Aabha protested. “You’re stronger than any of us.”   
  
“No. I don’t think so,” Mirai murmured. “It was not the Valkyries that ended this war. It was you, Aabha. You and your heart.”   
  
Aabha took a deep breath.    
  
“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I know he meant a lot to you. They all did.”   
  
Mirai nodded, mute.   
  
A pained silence stretched between them. Aabha cleared her throat.    
  
“...May I show you something, Mirai?”   
  
Mirai exhaled, glumly leaning on the balcony rail. “...Go ahead.”   
  
There was a whoosh of flame beside her. Mirai blinked, puzzled, before lifting her head.   
  
Aabha stood beside her, a pair of flaming golden wings at her back.    
  
Mirai blinked. “H-How…?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Aabha admitted. “When Taven enchanted my armor to let me fly like angels do, he said it would only last as long as he did. After... well, after, I thought the spell would wear off. But it’s back, somehow. Not even linked to my armor, but to me.”   
  
Aabha concentrated, and exhaled. Her wings dissipated into wisps of cool saffron flame.    
  
“I think that’s a sign,” Aabha said gently. “He’s here, with us. In his way.”   
  
“Hm,” Mirai almost smiled. “Well. At least he’ll be happy to have witnessed your victory.”   
  
Aabha took a seat on a ledge. At her urging, Mirai sat down beside her.    
  
“...You know, he once told me something,” Aabha said gently. “He said… he hopes that, when the time comes, we won’t be remembered for who we defeated, what we destroyed. Not for what we won, or what we lost. He said… to remember us for who we loved.”   
  
Mirai went stiff. Aabha silently offered her hand, palm up, on Mirai’s knee. Mirai took it with a squeeze.    
  
“Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “That kind of… sentimental nonsense… sounds just like him.”   
  
Aabha squeezed Mirai’s hand.    
  
“...Tell me about him,” she urged.   
  
Mirai swallowed hard.    
  
“Well… he loved to sing,” Mirai reminisced. “All the time. By himself, or during service, or even… no, especially when it was just the two of us…”   
  
They sat together, and talked, long into the night. They watched the sun dip below the horizon, watched the ribbons of pink, red, and gold streak across the sky. And when Aabha’s friends came looking for her, first Kit and Lily, then Lila and Vincent, they all sat with Mirai on that roof. They remembered Taven and the fallen Valkyries, not for their victories or defeats, not for their skills in battle, but for what they loved, who they loved, and who loved them.    
  
And when the warm red of sunset faded and the moon came out, Mirai’s armor, battered and bloody, still shone like a star.    
  
~*~   
  
Across the Academy, on a cliff by the sea, a ghoul was crawled through a ruined battlefield on its hands and knees.    
  
It emerged from the Breach a week ago, in the final moments of the Breach’s existence, called from beyond by some wordless insistence. A nameless drive.    
  
Whatever it was, the Breach called to it, and it came, spat out of the sky and left to shamble through the fields, blind, deaf, and dumb. It dragged itself forward on its belly, tasting the air with its tongue like a snake, propelled forward by some eldritch desire. Searching. Searching.    
  
Until, at last, it found its prize, buried tip-down in the dirt. A wooden haft. A  _ spear _ .    
  
As soon as his fingers wrapped around the haft, he remembered himself-- he remembered what he was, the power once in his grasp. He took the pole in his hands and pulled himself to his feet, his gaunt frame propped up by arcane power, dark magic holding his bones steady and lubricating his decrepit joints.    
  
His eyes returned. Shining white like the moon on a field of pure black. A robe of shadows formed around him; a cloak of black smoke fell from his back. His dove-gray suit was in tatters, but his tie pin still shone. A silver ouroboros-- a snake eating its own tail.    
  
He adjusted the cloak around his shoulders, glancing up at the black-bladed spear in his grasp.    
  
“This isn’t my cane,” Maxwell said, his voice echoed by a shadowed rasp. “But it’ll do.”   
  
~*~


End file.
